


What Started as a Snowball Fight

by thatawkwardfriend



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Playing in the Snow, Snowball Fight, snow fluff, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatawkwardfriend/pseuds/thatawkwardfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John annoys Sherlock while out on a case by throwing snowballs at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Started as a Snowball Fight

“The killer was male. 6ft and 180 pounds judging by the footprints. Worked as a – oof!” Sherlock scowled in annoyance and dusted off the remains of the snowball that had just hit the back of his head. After an extended deep breath, he continued. Probably just Anderson being an idiot. 

“Worked as a clerk for the past five – hngh!” Another hard snowball to shoulder. Sherlock whirled around to find the source, only to be greeted with another one smacking him square in the face. He slowly opened his eyes to find not Anderson, but John standing a few feet away innocently looking to the side and suppressing a smile. 

Around him, Scotland Yard chuckled. Sherlock frowned deeper. “Grow up, John! And stop tampering with the snow. It needs to remain – No!” Another snowball directly on his mouth, muffling the end of his protest. 

“Sorry, Sherlock,” John said, barely containing his laughter. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you getting pummeled.” Another one to the chest. 

“John, STOP IT.” Another to the jaw. Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson were still giggling, and John had given in to his laughter. Sherlock’s brow furrowed in irritation. 

“Come on Sherlock, don’t be a buzzkill.” 

He curled his fists and stormed towards John all while getting pelted with snowballs to the face, the chest, the shoulder, the arm. 

John was doubled over clutching his stomach when Sherlock neared him. John took in the glowering look on his face and and hesitated before throwing the next one. “Oh, shit,” he breathed, and took off running the opposite direction. 

Sherlock chased him far out into the snowy, hilly landscape. Every time John slowed down to catch his breath and look over his shoulder, Sherlock gained on him. 

“Sherlock…” he panted desperately. “What’re you…”

John, still a decent distance away from him, caught Sherlock’s eye while still running forward. Sherlock felt the corners of his mouth twitch at the sight of John’s warm, almost childlike smile. After fighting it momentarily, he let his scowl melt away into a giant grin. He surged forward into a dead sprint and John did the same, laughing heartily. 

“Get BACK HERE!” 

John made the mistake of looking back at Sherlock at the wrong moment, and slipped on a particularly icy patch on the landscape. Sherlock took the opportunity and tackled him at the waist. The two tumbled down a long, steep hillside, coating themselves in snow as they rolled over each other, both laughing and pawing at each other childishly. 

When they reached the bottom, Sherlock was on top trapping John down with his weight. He scooped up an armful of hard-packed snow and smashed it into his face, rubbing it obnoxiously into his hair and cheeks. 

John giggled and swatted at his hands, telling him to stop with no conviction. Sherlock chuckled along with him and kept smearing snow all over him, both their smiling from ear to ear. 

Eventually, John captured Sherlock’s wrists, forcing him stop. They locked eyes as they caught their breath, chests heaving against each other. Sherlock broke out into an even wider, lopsided smile as he looked into John’s warm, adoring eyes. John reached up and brushed some snow out of his curls. 

“We can’t play in the snow, it’s a crime scene,” John said softly, almost a whisper. Sherlock likewise cupped John’s cheek. Their smiles relaxed slightly as their gazes lingered on. 

“Hey, you two!” echoed Lestrade’s voice from a distance, causing them both to start. His face peeked out from the top of the hill as he spotted the two of them at the bottom. “Are you gonna – oh.” 

John reddened slightly as he realized Sherlock was still on top of him. And he himself was still holding his wrist and touching his face. 

“Yeah, okay,” they heard Lestrade mutter from away. “I’ll just… go then.” And he left.

“Um…” John started. 

“Oh, uh…” Sherlock realized the cause of his sudden embarrassment and rose up from the ground. He helped John up as well and they dusted themselves off avoiding eye contact. John, still scarlet-faced, coughed softly and shuffled his feet, still looking anywhere but at Sherlock.

“You know,” Sherlock started, looking away from John as well. “I uh… I wasn’t finished with my, er, payback. For the um … the snowballs…”

“Well then, you can just, uh, finish getting me back later then… When we get home.”

“…. If you insist.”


End file.
